


the spider-man can

by RandomRuth



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Humour, I wrote song lyrics for this y'all better be happy, Irondad, Spider-Man: The Musical!, Try Not to Cry Challenge, fluff and cuteness, just lots of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 01:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15897684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomRuth/pseuds/RandomRuth
Summary: Peter sits with a lump in his throat, still wearing a baseball cap the wrong way around just because it made Tony giggle like a little kid when he put it on like that, and wonders how he got here.(Spider-Mania (geddit?) has gripped Midtown School. Rumour has it there's a play on Thursday night, 7:00pm, tickets only $10 a pop...)





	the spider-man can

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to this, my longest fic in over four years, and the third fic I have written in three days. Yay, productivity!

Peter sits with a lump in his throat, still wearing a baseball cap the wrong way around just because it made Tony giggle like a little kid when he put it on like that, and wonders how he got here.

* * *

See, ever since Peter — um, sorry, _Spider-Man_ — had saved a some members of the decathlon team (with a few notable exceptions) from a broken elevator in the Washington Monument, Spider-Man Fever had hit the school. At least it was known as Spider-Man Fever, until the art department put their heads together and came up with Spider-Mania.

There was a section of a wall dedicated to Spider-Man — in amongst the posters for after school activities and notices about test dates, drawings of Spider-Man had started to appear, and soon the art had taken over, the wall a sea of red and blue. Peter always looked as he walked by and smiled to himself, and sometimes Ned would point out some new doodle or painting. One day a crochet doily of Spider-Man appeared, and another day, Ned pointed at a new pencil doodle, unsigned, cartoonish in style but not without detail, and Peter just knew that MJ had drawn it.

Rumours started to spread that there was going to be a Spider-Man play spearheaded by the after school drama club, but Peter thought no, no way, they wouldn’t do that, that’s crazy. But he was walking the familiar route to his locker one morning with Ned, and there it was. A poster for a play, entitled, simply, _Spider-Man (Working Title)_. There was an opening date, too, and Peter was pleased to see that it fell on a Friday evening, so he could be spared the embarrassment of going, because he was Peter Parker by day and Spider-Man by night — and on the weekends, he was an Avenger! Sort of. Almost.

They’d fallen into a routine; on Fridays Mister Stark picked him up from school and they went to the Avengers Compound to train, make improvements to their respective suits, watch movies and cause explosions in Tony’s lab (but that was just the once). Peter wasn’t going to miss anything if he didn’t see the play — “How good could a school play about Spider-Man actually _be_ , anyway?” he asked Ned.

A week before the play was due to be performed, the performance date was brought forward a day to accommodate the director going on holiday. Now that the play was on a Thursday, Peter could go. But did he want to? It could be really embarrassing but it also could be fun to see the drama club’s interpretation of events... He spent the rest of the week undecided, overthinking the whole thing.

Then at lunchtime on Thursday, he got a text from Tony.

_im in town atm. dinner?_

_Sure!!_ Peter added a grinning face emoji.

_ill pick u up from school. usual place. c u then._

_Thanks Mr stark!!!_ He added a couple of party poppers this time.

Smiling to himself, Peter put his phone away, a curious mixture of relieved that his mind had been made up for him about the play, excited about what fun activities Tony had planned for them, and annoyed that he might be missing something. But he wasn’t. Probably.

When the school bell rang Ned and Peter made their way outside and walked around the block to where Tony had parked his car (he had gone for the orange Audi this evening). “See ya, Peter,” Ned said with a wave, and walked on towards the subway.

Tony took Peter to a really posh place — Peter felt like he didn’t belong there, in his hoodie that still had a scorch mark from science class today. The starter alone probably cost more than Peter’s kidney on the black market, but when he tried to order just a side salad and some water, Tony didn’t look happy, so Peter kept saying names of different dishes until Tony looked satisfied.

The conversation at the beginning of dinner was easy and animated, but as time went on Tony started to check his watch more and more. “Is there somewhere you need to be, Mister Stark?” Peter asked, after Tony had checked his watch for the third time in ten minutes. Peter would hate to keep Tony Stark away from something — Tony was always doing really important stuff, and Peter just wasn’t worth missing it for.

“Actually there is,” Tony replied. He looked at Peter’s plate to make sure it was empty, then waved a waiter over. “Cheque, please.”

Peter’s heart sank because that meant Tony didn’t have any fun activities planned for them after all, but Peter did his best not to show it. “Oh,” he said with forced cheerfulness. “Where are you going?”

Tony gave him a look that Peter couldn’t decipher. “ _We_ are going a _thing_ that is happening in —” he checked his watch again, “— twenty-five minutes.”

“We?” Peter parroted, his hopes instantly raised, his mood irrevocably lifted. “What thing?”

Tony waggled his eyebrows. “It’s a surprise. Come along, Parker.”

Peter’s mind raced as Tony paid the bill for the food and they made their way to the car — there were far too many possibilities to consider, each more exciting than the last. Peter wasn’t even paying attention to where they were going as the streetlights danced across the windows, he was just trying to guess what they were going to do when they reached their destination.

“Air balloon riding?”

Tony kept his eyes on the road, answered in the same monotone voice he’d used for the first thirty guesses, “No.”

“The movies! We could watch that new movie about that small-town lawyer who comes home from the big city after his dad is accused of murder. It looks really good.”

“That’s… way too grown up for you. No.”

“I think they’re showing _Green Lantern_ too.”

“ _God_ , no.”

“Paintball?”

“No.”

“Laser tag?”

“No.”

“Bingo?”

“What are we, pensioners?”

“Well, not me, but maybe you are,” Peter said cheekily under his breath, waiting for Tony’s reaction.

“Watch it, kid,” Tony said quickly, and Peter laughed.

“Um… go-karts?”

“A good idea,” Tony conceded, and Peter began to smile, “but no.”

Peter’s smile dropped. “Damn it.”

“It’s pointless, you’ll never guess.”

Peter opened his mouth to have another go at guessing anyway, then promptly shut it when Tony pulled into a small, familiar parking lot, lit by floodlights. “Oh no,” Peter said, turning in his seat to glare at Tony. He was back at school, the building lit up in red and blue — _the play_. “No no, no no no!”

“Peter—” Tony started to say.

Peter’s earlier indecisiveness gave way to absolute certainty. “Mister Stark, I don’t want to see the play! It would be so weird! It’s — it’s about _me_. That’s weird. And humiliating!” And yeah, he did sound kind of hysterical.

Tony just sat and watched him in silence, letting him finish. “And you’re — you’re Tony Stark — you can’t just _walk in_ there!”

“I’ve got a disguise,” Tony said, confident, and reached into the back seat to retrieve a baseball hat and sunglasses. He put them on and grinned at Peter like this was the best disguise ever worn by anyone, and he obviously wasn’t just Tony Stark wearing a baseball hat and sunglasses.

Peter tried a different tack. “And look, look —” he said, waving vaguely at a poster on the wall outside, “— it’s sold out. We can’t get in, we just _can’t_.” He let his shoulders slump, his eyes drop to the floor like he was very disappointed. “It’s a real shame, Mister Stark, a real shame. I guess we’re just gonna have to go go-karting now.”

When he looked up Tony was smirking at him. He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out two small pieces of paper, waving them in front of Peter’s nose. “I bought my tickets three weeks ago,” he said, smug.

“ _Three weeks ago?_ ” Peter wheezed.

They both fell silent for a few moments, Tony looking out of the window and giving Peter the time he needed to let the hopelessness of his situation sink in. Then suddenly he was moving. “Okay, I’m going in,” he said, and he was out of the car, leaving Peter scrambling to catch up.

Peter caught up with him just outside the door and grabbed him by the arm. Tony turned around. “Mister St —” Peter began to say, but then he noticed Mister Perry staring at them from where he was stood at the door, collecting tickets. “Tony,” he said, quieter, putting on his best puppy dogs eyes as he stared up at Tony, “ _please_ , don’t make me go in there.”

For a second Peter thought it had actually worked — Tony looked uncomfortable, shifted on his feet, and Peter thought he was going to say _fine_ , they could go go-karting — but then he sniffed and said, “Do you trust me?”

Taken aback, Peter scrunched up his face. “Yeah,” he replied, like it was obvious, what a dumb question.

Tony looked touched, his eyes softening for just a moment, but then he took Peter by the shoulders, serious, and the softness was gone. Peter was now beyond confused. “Then we’re going to see _Spider-Man: The Musical!_ and we’re going to have fun.”

Peter shook his head, said, “It’s not called _Spi_ —” Tony pointed, and Peter looked at the poster properly for the first time. “Oh, _god_ ,” he groaned, throwing his head back.

“I know,” Tony said, nodding sagely. “I hope they release the soundtrack. It would make a really good addition to my workshop playlist.”

“Don’t you dare,” Peter warned, not wholly joking, but Tony just laughed.

Mister Perry took their tickets and they went inside. Peter led the way — now that he _was_ here he was going to face it with his chin held high. The gym was already almost full of parents sitting on rows of plastic chairs. Tony nudged Peter’s elbow and headed for the back of the gym. The back row of chairs consisted of just four — as close as they would get to privacy. The last thing Peter wanted was someone spotting none other than _Tony Stark_ in the audience.

Only a few more parents arrived before the lights dimmed and the stage was lit up. Only when the curtain rose on some sort of planet set that the art department had went to town on, did Tony remove his ‘disguise’. Peter noticed, though, that Tony was watching the door. It was quite dark and a little claustrophobic in this corner, Peter thought.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Huh? Yeah. Fine,” Tony whispered back, still distracted.

Peter frowned, but let it drop — if Tony was _really_ uncomfortable, he would say so. A thought popped into Peter’s head, and he grabbed Tony’s baseball hat from his lap and put it on backwards. “What do you think?” he asked, grinning.

Tony looked over at him and giggled, honest to god _giggled_ , which made Peter smile from ear to ear. “Here, let me fix it,” Tony said, and reached over to pull on a few of Peter’s bangs so they stuck out from under the hat at odd angles. He sat back, pleased with himself. “There, perfect.”

“Once upon a time, on a planet far, far away, a Spider-Boy was born…” began the narrator from the side of the stage. Out stumbled a freshman in a surprisingly well made replica of Peter’s suit. Peter was engrossed from then on, as the ‘life story’ of Spider-Man was dramatised before his very eyes. Occasionally Peter would steal a glance at Tony just to see what his reaction was to certain things — like the scene where Spider-Man’s spaceship crash lands in Central Park, complete with an actual dog on the stage — but he could only see his profile in their dark corner.

Peter barely registered the sound of the gym door opening and closing, but he nearly jumped a mile when a hand landed on his arm a moment later and he looked up — “May?” he asked, then he looked behind her; “ _Ned?_ ”

“Hey, buddy! Nice hat,” Ned whispered, waving. Peter waved dumbly back as May sat next to him, with Ned on her other side.

“Hi, sweetie, did we miss anything?” May asked softly, kissing his cheek.

“Spider-Man’s an alien,” Tony said and offered no further explanation.

Peter smiled, because here they were, his family — and _how convenient_ , he thought, squinting at Tony, that there are just _four_ chairs in this back row. As if he could read his thoughts, Tony chose that moment to wink at him — or try to. He still couldn’t wink properly.

On stage, Spider-Man was now played a senior and he was being taught the ways of humans by a blonde girl with curly hair. In the next scene the girl was walking home and two muggers appeared behind her, and then Spider-Man showed up and saved her, just like that! Then another scene, and this time it was a vague, cardboard warehouse. The lighting became orange and flickered like it was on fire.

Peter tensed on instinct and May noticed straight away, taking his hand in her own, grounding him. Tony rubbed his hand on his shoulder, a soothing, repetitive motion. Peter breathed steadily, in and out, and by the time the curtain came down at the end of the scene and a little instrumental started up, he was fine. He was okay.

Ned leaned across and whispered, “I thought this was supposed to be a _musical_. Where’s the music?”

Before anyone could reply, the curtain rose on another painted set — this time the Washington Monument. For the grand finale, Spider-Man saved the decathlon team — even Flash, who was on the stage in his bright yellow blazer and lapping up the attention. Then, to Peter’s surprise, everyone on the stage stopped thanking Spider-Man for saving them and got into rows, Spider-Man in the middle.

Music started playing, a familiar tune — _The Candy Man_.

Those on the stage started to sing.

 _Who can take on bad guys? (Who can take on bad guys?)_  
_And give them their due? (And give them their due?)_  
_Kick them in the ass and shoot a spider web or two?_  
_The Spider-Man! (The Spider-Man!)  
_ _Oh the Spider-Man can!_

Peter couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing and had to cover his mouth with his hand. He was shaking.

“Oh.” Ned’s voice was thin, tears threatening to fall from holding back the laughter. “So there’s the music.”

The song _mercifully_ ended, and every cast member crowded the stage. Spider-Man swept the blonde girl into his arms and kissed her — “Ugh,” said Peter — but instead of taking a bow, the actor playing Spider-Man took off his mask.

“Midtown School would like to thank the real Spider-Man for saving our decathlon team and for everything he does for New York,” he said. “ _Thank you_ , Spider-Man.” He started to clap, soon joined by everyone on the stage. “A round of applause for our hero, Spider-Man!”

To Peter’s dismay the audience started to clap as well, and then they started to stand, like a distorted Mexican wave. The people in the row in front of them stood and Peter couldn’t see the stage anymore, just peoples’ backs. He felt his chair shift and looked up to see May had gotten to her feet, and Ned too, and Peter turned and couldn’t believe it — Tony was standing too. Clapping for _him_. Peter felt a catch his his throat and tried to swallow it down.

But everyone in the room was looking straight ahead, their applause aimed at the Spider-Man on the stage — except for three people, three extraordinary people, who were applauding a boy who was stunned, glued to his chair. He couldn’t look at Ned or May because he knew he would cry, but it turned out it wasn’t safe to look at Tony either because Iron Man, the person who would forever be his hero — was smiling down at him, and Peter could see his eyes now and they were shining, projecting all the pride and love that Tony felt for him. For _him_. A poor kid from Queens.

Peter sniffed, but he couldn’t quite manage to hold all of the tears back.

* * *

Peter sits with a lump in his throat and a few tears on his cheeks, still wearing a baseball cap the wrong way around just because it made Tony giggle like a little kid when he put it on like that, and wonders how he got so lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> This whole fic came about when I thought to myself, what sort of song could you adapt to fit Spider-Man without nicking the one Homer Simpson came up with? Why did I have this thought? Not a ruddy clue, but there you go! The Candy/Spider-Man song has been stuck in my head for many hours now. Join me!
> 
> (Also I sprinkled a couple of references to films featuring RDJ in there. Can you spot them?)
> 
> I'm on Tumblr! tonyuhstark.tumblr.com


End file.
